


Bibliophile

by AnnieforSimonsflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Quidditch Pitch: Self Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-28
Updated: 2006-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieforSimonsflower/pseuds/AnnieforSimonsflower
Summary: Hermionereallylikes books.





	Bibliophile

**Author's Note:**

> This story is archived on behalf of Simons_flower, who passed away in 2009, by her designated archivist.

  
Author's notes: For the “[I Touch Myself](http://astele.co.uk/TheQuidditchPitch/Chapter/Details/challenges.php?chalid=8)” May challenge at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://astele.co.uk/).  


* * *

** Bibliophile **

Hermione Granger loved the library.  Not just the library at Hogwarts, but any library.  The smell of books and paper always did something for her, even when she was a little girl.  Of course, now that she was seventeen that “something” had changed quite a bit.

She didn’t mind researching Horcruxes for Harry when it meant more time in the library.  She wondered if either of her boys – and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were _her boys_ even if it was platonic – had guessed what books did for her.  If they had, they’d either want to watch or would ward the library against her.

The three of them had moved into Grimmauld Place after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, despite Molly Weasley’s objections.  With Harry’s birthday at the end of July, he was the last of them to become a legal adult in the Wizarding world.  Neither Ron’s parents nor Hermione’s could prevent them from doing as they wished.

Though the house was miserable and steeped in Darkness, it was a place they could use as a base for The Great Horcrux Hunt – Harry’s term, not Hermione’s.

After moving in, Hermione’s first item of business had been to scour her chosen room from ceiling to floor, ridding it of all Dark objects and magic, before brightening it with summer pastels.  Neither of the boys set foot in her room often, making her wonder if they thought the atmosphere would rob them of their manhood.  She’d be more than happy to prove otherwise.  For either of them.

For the moment, she was enjoying a rather old tome about cursed magical objects while laying naked upon her bed.  Clothing just got in the way once she began reading.

Sometime in that blur of a third year when books were often the only comfort she had, she came to the uncomfortable realization that smell is a very erotic sensation.  The smell of paper, the smell of the binding glue and, sometimes in the very old books, the smell of the ink, helped her toward her first orgasm.

Since then, she always tried to be unclothed when reading the oldest books, though it made her time at Grimmauld Place often awkward.  After Ron nearly caught her the first time she did this, she made sure to lock her door before stripping.  Just setting foot in the library lately was like being brushed with a thousand feathers while blindfolded; the smells set her on edge.

A light sheen of sweat covered her from her first orgasm of the day.  She’d recently discovered she could both study and finger herself.  It meant she existed in a bit of a sexual haze while she researched.  She didn’t think it was such a bad combination.

The book currently spread on her counterpane was at least a century old.  There was a slightly damp smell to it not yet turned to mildew.  When she turned the pages, a faint whiff of parchment dust momentarily dazed her.  Though she was doing the necessary research for Harry – about the process of cursing objects – the side effects were welcome.

She turned the page again with her right hand, the binding glue and dust making her moan.  Her left hand traced circles around one nipple, lightly pinching once it was taut.

As if she could split her brain into two sections, she made notes with her other hand, pausing every so often to turn the page or moan.  She wanted her notes to be clear, not smudged with ink from the way her body shook due to her other activities.

More than halfway through the book, her left hand was tracing her lower lips, gently spreading the wetness seeping from her body.  She resisted the urge to stroke her clit and bring herself to climax immediately.  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation for a moment, inserting two fingers into herself shallowly.

Ten pages later, sweat had beaded on her forehead once again, her fingers buried deep inside herself.  Bringing one leg up, bending it at the knee, she angled herself so she could stroke her G-spot.  Lights danced behind her eyes as she panted.

Biting her lower lip, she abandoned the book for the moment, rolled onto her back and moaned.  With the first three fingers of her right hand, she stroked her clit furiously.  Her feet firmly planted on the bed, she raised her hips in silent, useless entreaty, clenching around nothing but her fingers.

Her orgasm was sudden enough to make her shout her release and strong enough that after less than a minute she had to yank her hands away.  Panting and staring at the ceiling, she realized too late she’d forgotten the silencing charm on the door.

The sound of clapping made her sit up, wand in hand.  Her face flamed red upon seeing Ron leaning against her dresser in only half-buttoned jeans and Harry in the doorway only in boxers.  Neither item of clothing could conceal their arousals.

“We heard your shout...” Harry began, glancing nervously between her and Ron.

“And thought you might be injured,” Ron finished.

She looked between the two, skimming each of their bodies with her eyes.  Then slid her wet fingers into her mouth.

Later she reflected she’d never seen them shed clothing so quickly.


End file.
